Humanity
by nikkiRA
Summary: Oneshot, MagnusAlec & onesided SimonClary/ They're the only two left. One holds onto the memories with everything he has. The other refuses to remember. T for language.


**There is a (slightly altered) song lyric hidden in here somewhere. 20 000 points of awesomeness to whoever can point it out to me!  
(+ps, it isn't the Nelly Furtado ones, but if you pick those out you get 10 000 points of awesomeness)**

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He doesn't keep track of the years anymore. He spends his time in the sunlight, pretending to be something he isn't. Pretending he's normal. Pretending things are the same. During the night, he lets his true self free. He feeds. Over the years, the sickening feeling of drinking blood, of someone else's life source, fades away. He works hard to convince himself that his last shred of humanity hasn't gone away with it. The truth of the matter is his humanity disappeared a long time ago.

He supposes if you want to put a name to it Humanity's name had been Clary.

The others played a role in it all, too. His family, Isabelle, Maia, even Jace and Alec. But Clary is the name that sticks out the most. The one that is imprinted permanently on his brain. The one he misses the most.

(He thinks maybe he should miss his mother, his sister, his family the most, but he doesn't, and maybe he should feel bad about it, but he doesn't.)

He had been there through it all. Her wedding, her pregnancies, every big or small thing in her life. And he had sat through her death, even though it broke his non-beating heart. Even though he wished, more than anything, that he wasn't immune to the sun, because he wanted nothing more than to not exist.

But he lived, although that wasn't quite the right word to describe him. He lived on, even when everyone else faded away.

He doesn't keep track of time anymore because it doesn't matter to him. The only reason he had looked at the clock before was to see how much time he had left, but now he has all the time in the world and nothing to do with it.

All the time in the world and no one to share it with.

---

He doesn't keep track of the years, but then again, he never did. Time was always a thing of the future- how much time until this, or that, but his future was just a never ending parade of _now's, _all lined up to form forever.

He spends forever very non-productively. An abundance of parties that blur into each other. Faces and names that never stick to his memory long. Lovers he doesn't love, lovers he uses to pass the time, counting down until forever ends. All good things come to an end, after all (but he's increasingly unsure about whether or not this is a good thing after all).

He spends his forever doing everything except remembering.

He's determined to block it all out because he doesn't want to remember, doesn't want to see his face or remember his taste or that sense of security he had in his arms that he hasn't found anywhere else. He doesn't want to remember those eyes as they stared up at him, doesn't want to remember his final words, his last goodbye, before his grip loosened and the spark went out of them forever.

He won't think of them, won't think of any of them because they all lead to him. And he won't think of him.

He can't think of him. Because the one who used to bring him the most joy now only brings him pain.

---

He finds himself losing his grip on reality.

He's becoming the monster he reads in stories. He's only living for the blood. He's becoming a monster, and he doesn't come out in the sunlight anymore. There are too many people, and he doesn't trust himself anymore. There's no reason for him to care. He doesn't know these people. And besides.

Clary isn't around to admonish him for it. Clary isn't around to keep him human.

What's the point anymore?

Memories are slipping away from him. He can't quite remember her smell, can't remember her lips. He can't hold onto her memory, can't use it as a life raft to bring him back from the void he's slipping into, can't use it to hold onto some part of humanity.

He searches his brain for something, anything to bring him back.

And then it clicks. A name. A person. Someone who will still be around. Someone who can help him. Someone with the same memories.

Magnus Bane.

---

A knock on his door in the middle of the day rouses him from his sleep and angrily he throws it open.

"This had better be good!"

It's a vampire standing before him. A vampire standing in broad daylight.

He resists the urge to slam the door.

"Hello, Magnus," he says, and that voice, it stirs up memories, memories he doesn't want, blue eyes, _no no no, get out of my head. _

"There had better be some dire emergency for you to be disturbing my sleep."

The vampire's eyebrows rise. "Surely you recognize me?"

He does.

"You can't expect me to remember every face I happen across. Nothing personal, I assure you."

"How many vampires do you know who can walk in the daylight, Magnus?"

One.

Just one.

"I have more important things to do than remember every detail about the Children of the Night, vampire," he says, his voice low.

There must be something in his eyes, because the vampire shakes his head. "Bull shit, Magnus."

He resists the urge to yell, resists the urge to slam the door in his face to shout at him to shake him to hit him to tell him to get off his front steps, because the memories, goddamn the memories _they won't go away and blue eyes and Shadowhunter marks and his hands and his taste and his kisses and all these goddamn memories. _

"What do you want Simon?!" He says, and he manages to only shout a little as his name hits him, the name he hasn't thought of in so long.

_Alec, Alec, Alec, Alecalecalecalecalec Lightwood._

---

As soon as Magnus says his name he slumps against the doorframe as if simply saying _Simon _had drained him of his life source. His already pale face was even paler. He had just rolled out of bed, and hadn't had a chance to glitter himself up yet. He looked incredibly, impossibly small to Simon, as if he was decreasing over the years (how many years had it been?) and eventually would just shrivel up.

"You don't look too well," Simon says worriedly. "You look pale."

Magnus shakes his head. "You're going to talk to me about pale?" But his voice isn't humorous. His voice is strained, as if simply speaking causes him so much pain.

"Mag-"

He looks up. Slowly, deadly, he says, "what. Do you. Want. Simon."

How does he explain it? How can he tell Magnus that he came here to remember? That he came to try to hold onto their memories (to her memories)? It had been years (decades? Centuries?) since Simon had spoken to Magnus. And sure, they had never been close- but he supposes he could have visited once in a while. They were each other's link to the others. To the one's they loved.

He didn't think Magnus would be _this _upset with him, though. As far as he knew, Magnus hadn't even really liked him.

"Er... Magnus, I'm sorry we didn't keep in touch..."

Magnus laughs, a bitter laugh that holds no trace of humour in it.

"Don't flatter yourself, vampire."

"Look-"

"What do you want, Simon?" The bitterness is gone from his voice. Now it is just sadness. Raw sadness.

"Clary- I- I can't... remember. Them. I can't remember them. It's been so long... I figured you could help me. Could help me remember."

Magnus emits another laugh, but this time it doesn't sound anything like a laugh. It sounds more like a sob.

"Get off my front step, Simon."

"What? But-"

"GET OFF MY FUCKING FRONT STEP."

Simon listens.

He doesn't think he has a choice.

---

Magnus doesn't make it to his bedroom.

He doesn't even make it to the couch. He just falls against the door, sliding down, his legs giving out as he's hit with memory after memory, the memories he had suppressed for so long, all hitting him, and he wonders how Simon can't remember, because the memories are strong, so strong...

Tears are running down his face and he leans his head back against the door and stares at his ceiling, but he doesn't see his ceiling.

He sees blue. The most brilliant blue he had ever seen in his exceptionally long life. It starts as just blue but then it turns into eyes, into a face, into a person, a boy, _alecalecalecalecalec._

He doesn't realize he's speaking his name aloud, but now he can't stop. "Alec Alec Alec Alecalecalec, Alec Alec Alec."

It's the only word he knows, now. He can remember him, his smell and his taste and the way he held him and the way he'd bite his lower lip and push his hips against his hips and dig his nails so deep into his skin. But more than anything he remembers the blue. It's the only colour he sees now.

He sees the others now, too, but all they do is bring more memories of him. Jace and the way Alec used to love him (before Alec loved him- Alec loved him, Alec loved him, and goddamn did he love Alec) and Isabelle and how Alec was so damn protective of her and Max and the way Alec curled up into his side when his little brother died, how Magnus held him and the way Alec didn't stop crying. He remembers, that's all he can do is remember.

He doesn't want to remember, so he curls up on his carpet and tries, tries so goddamn hard to forget.

It doesn't work.

---

As Simon stands there he hears a thump against the door and then a sliding sound and he worries for a moment that Magnus must have fainted but then he hears the sobbing.

He stands there awkwardly, listening to those heaving wails and he wonders just what the hell he's done.

He can hear Magnus's voice through the door, chanting the same word, the same name, over and over, Alec Alec Alec. Simon leans his head against Magnus's door. He feels like he should do something. That he should fix this. That he should help Magnus, because it was his fault this was happening.

He stands there and listens until the sobs quiet down and he wonders if it's because he's calmed down or if he just doesn't have any more tears to cry.

Then he pushes himself off of the door and walks away.

He wonders if he can do anything right anymore.

---

That night, he sleeps on his floor; curled up into himself, dry sobbing. The memories continue to come, unbidden- memories of a time long ago, of a boy he loved more than life, of a boy who's been dead for a long time now. A Shadowhunter boy, a forbidden boy- but that didn't stop them. The forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest, and all that.

He dreams of Alec that night. This is almost worse than the memories, because these are things that never happened. That will never happen.

_"What are you doing on the floor, Magnus?"_

_He'd know that voice anywhere. Sure enough, it's Alec Lightwood standing in front of him, a smile on his face. He reaches out a hand and Magnus grabs it. Alec lifts him up but he doesn't let go of his hand. Instead he wraps his arms tightly around him and leans him against the door, bringing his lips to his. _

_"I've missed you," Magnus whispers. Alec laughs. _

_"I've been here the whole time, Magnus." The voice sounds odd, contorted, and when Magnus opens his eyes it isn't Alec standing in front of him, but someone else. _

_"You're not... you're not Alec."_

_The man's eyebrows rise. "Alec? Who the hell is Alec?"_

_Magnus tears out of his arms. "Alec. Where's Alec?"_

_The man shakes his head. "I don't know who the hell Alec is."_

_"WHERE THE FUCK IS ALEC?!"_

_The answer comes to him suddenly, horrifically._

_Alec's dead. _

_Magnus screams. _

Magnus screams.

---

He drinks the blood greedily. He doesn't know who it is beneath him. He supposes it used to be a boy.

It doesn't matter anyway. He feels no remorse. That's a human feeling. He has none of those left.

Sunlight pours in through the window, and he hisses, wincing away from it. Somewhere, deep inside, he can remember that he can go out in the sunlight. He's not like the others (others? What others? He's been alone for as long as he can remember). He can't remember why he can go out in the sunlight. It doesn't matter anyway. All that matters is blood.

A name niggles at the back of his brain. He can't quite reach it. A face almost reaches him, but it fades away before he can grasp it. He has enough sense to realize it's a girl.

He wonders if her blood tastes good.

He can't get to her name.

He doesn't even know his own.

---

He throws himself into parties for a little while. Takes lovers whose names he doesn't remember. But the memories still come. They won't go away. He's slowly losing his grip on reality. Every shade of blue is Alec. Every Shadowhunter is Alec. Every swirling tattoo is a mark that belongs to Alec's skin.

He almost can't remember that Alec's dead.

Eventually, the parties stop. The long line of lovers dwindles until he's alone. But the memories still come. He wonders where they all come from. Wonders how they had all that time to make all these memories.

He waits. He waits until the memories stop. Until there's no more memories to remember. Until he has, painfully, relived them all.

He wonders if that day will ever come.

---

They've both lost their grip on humanity, but that's okay.

They weren't human to begin with.

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**So, Chocolateshots and I were having a conversation and she mentioned that it was so sad, that Simon and Magnus were the last ones, the only ones that would survive. And this was born :)**


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